After WW2, during talks in Potsdam, where the world leaders were trying to decide what to do with a post WW2 Germany; after a long day, President Harry Truman got into his car to drive back to his quarters and an Army officer asked for a ride. As a way of thanking him, the officer says, “Mr. President, I can arrange anything you’d like while you’re here, anything in the way of wine and women.” Truman is absolutely livid!
He turns to the officer and answers, “Listen, son, I married my sweetheart,–She doesn’t run around on me and I don’t run around on her; now, I want that understood! Don’t you ever mention that kind of stuff to me again!” “By the time we were home,” remembered the Secret Service man — “he got out of the car and never even said good-bye to that guy.”
THAT is how you resist temptation! Don’t even consider it for a second.harryandbess


When I was an EMT in Eastern MT, we often would get a call about a rancher who was digging a ditch—but it collapsed on him. We even had one call where the man‘s son jumped in the ditch, when he noticed that it was collapsing, in an effort to save his Dad. Sadly, they both perished.

Now, these are not ignorant people. Many have graduated from college, have worked the land for generations; and know the dangers. But, they have become over confident in their own abilities. They know the danger, but once they start digging and going deeper and deeper and they see a little sand, they look up and think, “oh, I can still get out quick. I am fast.” So, they keep digging. They do not notice when they are in too far; because they are so busy! They are sure they will be “fine”; until the whole thing collapses around them. Suddenly it all falls in on them and crushes them so that they can not breathe. Then, they think, “why didn’t I listen to that small voice that told me to get out? Why didn’t I pay attention to how deep I was digging?!”

There comes a point in all our lives when we need to stop digging. People tell us to stop–they beg us to stop–our own conscience tells us to stop—but we ignore those voices, and even though we are tired, dirty and miserable, and we see the little bit of ‘bad soil’…we keep on digging. Jesus is at the edge…hand him the shovel. Take His hand and allow him to get you out of that hole!

“Let the beloved of the LORD rest secure in him,
for he shields him all day long,
and the one the LORD loves rests between his shoulders” ~Deut.33:12

Today I am sick. I have a head cold, which brings on much pain and misery in my fibromyalgia afflicted body. I could easily succumb to self-pity in these circumstances. But, praise be to God that I have been given the gift of ‘attention deficient and my mind can not seem to stay focused on my misery long enough to bring me to despair!
Let me give you an example of what I mean. I was lying down, trying to adjust my pillows in a way so that I would not be in pain, but so I could breathe. It isn’t easy to find that perfect place…All of this reminded me of an old movie that I had seen about ‘John Merrick”, the “Elephant Man”. Seems Mr. Merrick had to sleep sitting up, for he would asphyxiate if he did not. I was feeling a kinship with the ‘elephant man’ this morning. (And if truth be told, I have in the past, been known to walk about the house shouting, “I AM NOT AN ANIMAL”….to my family as they make jest of my various autoimmune afflictions, such as massive hives that have invaded my lips, and swell so far that I resemble a duck!) Anyway, this morning as I thought of Mr. Merrick, the thought of a verse from the Bible came to my mind:“God sets the lonely in families” Ps.68:6 And I talked to God for a minute, and thanked him for keeping this promise and for placing Merrick in a “family”. I thanked Him for the life of Mr. Merrick; that the man was able to give pleasure and happiness to others, even in his afflicted state. And I thanked God  for the fact that Mr. Merrick too, even though so horribly challenged, was able to find joy, happiness and make a difference in the lives of others, while in his horrific state. I also thanked God for reminding me, in the midst of my own minor by comparison, affliction; that he loves and cares for all of us.
It was then that God chose to teach me a lesson.
It was then that God spoke clearly, and asked me, “If you believe that I could do that for “the elephant man”, why do you doubt that happiness and joy can come from your daughter’s affliction?”
As you have noticed, I have been quite silent where my drug addicted daughter is concerned. Some disappointments and heartaches can not be described in words, but must be endured a moment at a time.
My daughter disappeared on the fourth of July, this year. With no prior warning, she was gone. We searched and could not find her. Since this isn’t the first time we have been down this road, we assumed that she had relapsed, but were not quite sure, this time, because she left with only the clothes on her back. She left all her diabetic supplies and medicines at our home. Even with our past experiences with her, or perhaps because of them, horrible scenarios ran through our minds. Had she met with an accident somewhere? Was she crawling for help off the side of some wooded road? Perhaps she had waited on a nefarious character at the cafe where she worked, and she had fallen victim to his murderous ways? We visited her place of employment and contacted the friends we knew. We found that she had cashed large checks before she went missing, which made it seem more of a planned escape. So, we waited for some sort of news, which we knew would come.
About 3 weeks later, I got a package in the mail, with a note attached, that said it had been found on a bridge in Portland OR; it was my daughter’s wallet! Oh no! Previously, during her sober times, my daughter had described the drug culture in Portland to me. She explained that when one person died, for whatever reason, the rest of the addicts just rolled the body in the river, so no police would come looking at the rest of them. I was sure this is what had happened to my beautiful daughter….I didn’t know what to do, or where to turn for help.
But, that very day, she sent a text to her father; “Dad im sorry but i am ok just letting u know. Love you always”
She skipped out on her probation, her healthcare, rehab, her jobs and her bills. She left us with a mess of bills and a mess in her room. We had to answer her employers and spar with her bill collectors. This isn’t the first time. I actually have a template letter to send to her creditors telling them to leave us alone, that we aren’t responsible for her debts. 
Everyday brings a new heartache a new concern and a new problem. Soon she called for money, a place to stay and pleas from jail. But, now there is a new twist. She has a boyfriend. And she is pregnant.
So, the lesson God sent me this morning, telling me to put away my worries for her baby. God has a plan for this child, and can make a way when there is no way. Where I see only misery and abuse ahead for this little one, God tells me to trust Him. I do.

We are hearing a lot about “bullying” in the news lately. As you can see from this photo, there is a type of bullying, that doesn’t seem to get addressed. It is something short of physical abuse, but oh, so damaging to children. It is a parent who bullies their child into submission: a parent who threatens, yells, withholds love–refuses to look at them, makes fun of and humiliates their child, for the parent’s own selfish gain. It is a parent who puts their wants, wishes, feelings and desires, above what is best for their children. This type of bullying has far reaching effects. It causes permanent damage.

Parents who quickly quote scriptures which command children to ‘obey their parents’; fail to read the passages where God cautions them on putting too much on the little ones. Ephesians 6:4 ” Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord.” Col.3:21 “Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.”  This goes for Mothers as well.

God gave children to parents, because they need guidence. They do not already know how to behave—it is our job to teach them! And as the old saying goes, 95% of what children learn is “caught” not taught. They will follow our examples instead of our lectures!

What can you do about it? Well, make sure you are not a bully. And when you see a bully, don’t condone or contribute to their behavior. Do not enable them, by saying nothing. For evil to continue the righteous must be silent.

Don’t be silent.

A certain man was known as Red Cap 42. In the heyday of passenger trains, Red Cap 42 carried people’s bags. He did this for forty years. He was so disgusted with his role in life that whenever anyone asked him his occupation, he would say he was “in the leather business.” He hated everybody because having to carry others’ baggage made him feel he was not as good as they were.

After Christ came into his life, however, Red Cap 42’s whole outlook changed. He stayed in the same business, but he was carrying bags for God now, and he began talking with God all the time about his customers. Person after person sensed this elderly man’s attitude. Many came into a personal relationship with the Savior through the witness of this red cap, a man named Ralston Young. They began to meet together with him for prayer in an empty railroad coach parked on a siding.

Before long, a group of businessmen rented an office for Ralston Young on New York’s Madison Avenue, where they could have their regular prayer meetings. They formed a board, and believing that what they were doing was a source of great power, they named their prayer project, Manhattan Project Number Two. God had used Ralston Young greatly in his position as a bag carrier. As long as Ralston Young resented other people, God could not effectively use him. But once Ralston Young was in a proper relationship with God and his neighbor, Ralston Young became an influential man.

Making friends is an essential part of Christian discipleship. Making friends allows us to be effective instruments in God’s hand.

Of course, Ralston Young could not be a friend to others until first he discovered that he had a friend who would never let him down. Ralston Young could never have become a dynamo of positive influence if he had not first given his life to Christ.
~ Story by Corrie Ten Boom

How to talk to a neo-Nazi

By Rabbi Hillel Goldberg

The “Jewish merchant” who made the sale of his life

http://www.JewishWorldReview.com | Daniel Kravitz owns Denver’s Home Again Furniture and, like he says, you never know who will walk in the door.

Saying only that he toned down the language a bit, Kravitz tells the story of his encounter with a unique customer:

“I receive a phone call answering a classified advertisement I placed to sell a black bedroom set for $250.

“During the conversation the young man on the other end of the line says he has only $700 — and do I have enough furniture in my store to furnish his whole apartment?

“I ask how big his apartment is. Well, it’s a buffet apartment and I ask what he needs. Besides the bedroom set, he needs a dinette, a sofa, tables and a lamp.

“I say, if you’re not picky, I can furnish the apartment for $700.

“He didn’t show up until the next day.

“A man walks in, shocking in appearance. He’s a skinhead. Tall. 6’2”. Trim. In his early 20s. Sleeveless t-shirt. Dark pants. Doc/Martin boots (made in England, very popular with the subculture, punk rockers, skinheads, etc.).

“On his arm are tattoos. I cannot help but notice what they say: Kill Niggers and Jews. 

“I realize right away who this individual is.”

Are you Dan? We spoke on the phone yesterday. Do you still have the black bedroom set?

“I say: You’re the young man who says you have $700 to furnish your apartment.

“I show him the bedroom set. My store is about 10,000 square feet. We walk around the store. I can give you this sofa, and these tables . . . in 20 to 30 minutes we figure out what he wants.

“I throw in some dishes — glad to get rid of them.

“We get back to my counter and desk. I write up a receipt, including the inventory and the regular prices. The total comes to about $1,000, which I discount down to $700. I hand him the receipt for him to sign on the bottom. He looks over the receipt and says, Boy, you really gave me a big discount.

“I say: That’s the deal.”

You won’t get in trouble for discounting this much?

“No, it’s my own business.”

I really appreciate it.

“I say: I’m a man of my word.

“He pays in cash.

“I help him load the furniture onto a pickup truck. It was July or August, about six years ago. Before Craig’s List.

“We work up a sweat. When we we’re done, I ask him whether he would like to have a Coke, or something else cold to drink.

“I have no other customers and have time to sit with him.

“So I give him a can of soda, take one myself.

“Now, this whole time, I kept observing him to see whether he was carrying a gun or a knife. You see that kind of tattoo — he’s not a choir boy.

“When we loaded his furniture his shirt lifted up, and I saw there was no weapon in his pocket. I felt comfortable he didn’t have a weapon.

“So I say: I couldn’t help but notice your tattoos. Do you really believe that?

Hell, yes — I do!

“Have you ever hurt anybody?


“How many blacks and Jews do you know?”

I don’t need to know any. I know they’re bad. Blacks are trying to take over the white women. Jews are controlling the banks and the government.

“I say: I hate to tell you — I disagree with your propaganda. I grew up in Park Hill around a lot of black people. Unless you know somebody you can’t make judgments about a whole culture.

“I saw that he was not connected to what I said. So I say: I bet you don’t talk to your mother and father — if my son had the tattoos on his arms that you have, I wouldn’t talk to my son. I don’t think you talk to your parents.

No, I don’t.

“I realized I hit a nerve.

“The next thing I say: It wasn’t that many years ago that your mother held you in her arms, and she loves you. I’m a parent. I know that your parents are hurt and miss you, and don’t approve of your ways.

“Then I say: I want to share with you . . . I’m Jewish.

No, you’re not.

“Why would I lie to you about that?”

You don’t look like a Jew.

“What does a Jew look like?”

Not like you.

“I point to my front door and show him my mezuzah, and tell him that Jews put it on their doorposts.

“And I have a siddur, so I open it up and say: See, this is my Hebrew prayer book

. “I show him my store hours and say: Notice, I’m closed on the Sabbath. I live as a Jew.

“What you think of Jews is not right. I pray with people who have numbers on their arms. You’re part of a group of people who believe that the Holocaust didn’t happen. Not only did I lose family members, I pray with people who have numbers on their arms.

No, it’s a Holohaux.

“Absolutely not true. You know what? I think you’re a nice guy. I know by some of the things you’ve said to me how appreciative you are that I gave you a good deal. I know that your mother and father raised you with good values. Why you are a part of the neo-Nazis, I have no understanding.

“One of two things is going to happen to you. You’ll end up dead, or you’ll end up in prison and some huge bubba is going to take you for his wife. You need to think about what you’re doing. These are the only two possible paths if you keep on doing what you’re doing.

“You told me you’ve hurt people. Do you want to hurt me?”

No. You’ve been nice to me.

“I’ve only been nice to you because you gave me an opportunity to be nice to you.

“You hurt people you don’t even know because of the color of their skin or their religion.

“You need to think about that.

“The people you hang around with don’t care if you’re in jail or dead. But your mother and father do care.”

Then another customer walks in.

“Listen, I can’t talk more now, but if you want to talk to me more I’ll be glad to talk to you. I want you to think about what I’ve said to you because everything I’ve said is true.

“I didn’t know what he thought. But he came in with the prejudice that Jews are greedy and money-grabbing. He had to realize, here’s a Jew who just gave him a really good deal, helped him load his truck and sweated with him. I think what hit him was when I said: It’s not long ago that your parents held you in their arms.”

He left.

MONTHS later, maybe a year later, he came back to Kravitz’s store.

“He says to me: Do you remember me?

“I say: Of course.”

[At this point in the retelling, Kravitz tears up.]

“He was dressed completely different. His hair was grown out — no more shaved head — normal hair. He didn’t look like a Skinhead. He was wearing a long-sleeve shirt, jeans and sneakers. He looked like a whole different person.

“I ask: Did you reconnect with your parents?”

Yes I have.

“He says: I need to give you an apology. I realize now how offensive my tattoos were to you and how hurtful they are. I can’t afford it now — but I’m going to have those tattoos removed.

“He gave me a hug.”

I’ve never seen him again.
post script:
Knowing how quickly accounts like this are dismissed as Intermet lore, and urban legends; likewise they go viral in hours, I took the initiative to call.

Daniel Kravitz answered the phone, and I identified myself as Mike, from FreeRepublic.com, who heads the Christian Supporters of Israel list there, and was this story true.

He verified that, indeed, the story was true, and happened well over a year ago.

We talked a bit more. I told him where I live. We talked about Israel. He is Observant. He asked if I was pro-Israel. I told him our church staff had just returned from leading a sizable tour to Israel. He asked me if I had ever been to Israel. He than offered to send me something in the mail concerning travel to Israel, which although I will probably not be able to go, was incredibly thoughful of him.

He struck me as genuine and every bit as described in thought and worldview in Rabbi Hillel Goldberg’s article. The fact that he could take me at face value, right over the phone and both od us develop an immediate rapport, speaks much to the man’s character and humility.

I remember when I lost my home,

was in a different town and all alone.

A scared little girl, only 22

Drugs and pain was all I knew.

I sat alone in the resturant booth,

trying to decide on my next move.

All I wanted was a safe warm bed,

Some food to eat and a pillow for my head.

A single tear slipped from my eye,

Life was hard; so much easier to die.

Then I said a desperate prayer,

a plea to God,  to get me out of there!

Then she came from across the street,

this angel in sweatpants,

got a bed for me, and something to eat.

With a stern face she looked right into me;

“Turn to God when it is too dark to see!”, said she.

Sometimes life can get you down, you feel all alone, even in a crowd. A broken leg, a broken heart, a broken life, falling apart.

Remember God is always there, He won’t just pretend to care.

You may run and go astray, but if you trust He will lead the way.  He will pull you out of the filth and dirt—and show real LOVE, not just a flirt.

If you give your life to Him, you’ll never be alone again…

~written by my addicted daughter. I found this in her room after she disappeared this fourth of July…

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